


Through Me Tell the Story

by diefleder_tey



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: Jason takes Dick to his favorite bookstore and tasks him with finding a certain book; it doesn't end like he expects.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WriterOfFates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfFates/gifts).



> Thank you so much for the cute prompt. I hope this will be to your liking!

****Just faintly, the beat and some of the words carried over from the small speakers that were unprofessionally shoved up into the top of one of the sections, their cables stapled to the wall. The system was as old as the book Dick was holding, and the book was at least as old as he was.  After opening and closing it a dozen times, he started tapping it against the shelf as he muttered quietly along to what he thought he heard, trying to place the song over the sounds of the cashier breaking down empty boxes, the two other customers walking across the creaky floors to reach the even creakier stairs, and his companion's purposefully loud page turning from the corner.  "I think it's the Stones," Dick said.  "It's the Stones, right?"

Jason ignored him, his eyes buried deep in the book in front of him and his face devoid of expression.  He was on the floor, his feet in front of him and his knees as close to his chest as he could manage.  And, all in all, what he could manage was a rather admirable feat for such a tall man, taking up much less space than Dick would have expected.  If anyone else wanted to reach the Self Help section, they were out of luck - unless they felt up to the Herculean task of getting Jason to move his head and back while mid-sentence.  But if they were hoping to reach the tiny Psychology section to his left or the Travel section at his right, Jason's arrangement presented no barriers. 

Dick mentally checked all three genres off of his list - not that any of them would have ever stood much chance of being favored by his companion.  Jason could write half the books in the Travel section - and Self Help too, for that matter.  After all, the power of now was probably an obvious sentiment for a guy who knew what it was like to be dead.  And Psychology, that was a tricker subject.  There was always the possibility that Jason's seat selection was deliberate, to throw an added level of difficulty to the challenge by blocking the very book he had tasked Dick to find…. But no, Dick knew that wasn't the case at all.  The bookstore was so small, the loitering choices ranged from being exposed in front of the cashier, being exposed upstairs on the small, narrow balcony, being exposed in the children's section where two grown men weren't frequently found, or tucking back in the least popular corner of the store.  Dusty, small, underneath the balcony and completely out of the cashier's line of sight - Jason would have chosen to hole up there out of sheer comfort regardless. 

Not that being that far back made them entirely immune to the cashier's attention.  Occasionally, she would peek around the end of the section, her mouth clamped shut but her nametag advertising her willingness to help find any book.  Every time she did, Dick smiled and raised his hand to wave - a kind gesture to help ease her obvious discomfort.  Somehow, it backfired and made things worse; she'd recognize the contact and quickly pull back to her station at the front.  Apparently the sight of Jason making himself at home in the store wasn't uncommon enough to shock her, but novel friendliness was simply unheard of. 

Dick was just about to pull a few of the words from the song together when she did it again, accidentally looking him straight in the eyes and seeming more flustered than before.  He couldn't blame her - it was thirty minutes before closing time and they hadn't moved in the last hour. 

Jason turned the page of his book, making more noise than should have been possible.  He held the book so gently, the spine cradled by the interlocking tips of six of his long fingers, his thumbs and index fingers keeping each side supported so that it never opened more than 45 degrees - enough that he could read the words without leaving too permanent a mark.  He should have been able to quietly let one page fall to the other side when it was time to turn, but instead he purposely let go so that he could separate and, with a sharp cut of sound, turn the page with his whole right hand.  He wanted Dick's attention.  

" _You Can't Always Get What You Want_.  Apt," Jason said, not looking up.  "How did you miss that?  Even Damian would have recognized it." 

"I doubt it," Dick responded, sighing under his breath.  "I tried to get him to listen to some of their earlier work last month and he just asked why anyone would repeatedly listen to songs with only three chords." 

"Classics are boring," Jason said dryly, turning another page of the copy of _The Odyssey_ he was holding. 

Dick crossed his arms and tilted his head.  It wouldn't be outside of the realm of possibility for Jason to issue a challenge and smugly have the answer in his hands the entire time, either. "Question of boundaries?" 

"Shoot." 

"You wouldn't be cheating, would you?" 

Jason lowered the book slightly.  "How could I be cheating?  To break rules, you have to _have_ rules." 

"No rules, huh," Dick said to himself.  He turned to face the case he was leaning against and found where he had picked up the book.  The row was fairly spaced out, enough to keep everything upright without any single novel getting squeezed.  It was clear the building was old, an almost measurable amount of dust on the top shelves of each case.  As the couple from upstairs started to make their way down, Dick could see the next wave fall from the ceiling and settle on the books, the layers of which dated their shelf lives.  That had been his first method - looking for trails in dust, a book that obviously got picked up more than most.  Then he altered his means after he saw how Jason held _The Odyssey_ : the book in question had to be cleaner than most, as Jason would have wiped it off out of habit every time he took it off of the shelf.  The condition wouldn't necessarily be a give away - but a book chewed up by the world that was always carefully reshelved would be a convincing clue. 

"I'm pretty sure I read that in middle school," Dick said, deciding to squat down to take a seat against the adjacent case.  He stretched his legs out, spreading at a small angle so he could rest his hands on the carpet in between.  "I liked _To Kill a Mockingbird_ better."  He smiled.  "But I could see why you'd be drawn to _The Odyssey_." 

" _The Aeneid_ 's probably more your speed," Jason replied.  He kept reading through his comment, his eyes following the words on the page without faltering.  And though he didn't break to look up and see what Dick was doing, he followed suit - stretching his legs out against the aisle, keeping his knees slightly bent.   

So maybe the challenge was a little harder than Dick had originally thought.  Still, he had eliminated more possible answers than not; although the bookstore was small compared to any chain outlet, it was still fairly impressive that he had gone through as many books as he had.  He reached behind himself and grabbed the first thing his fingers found - "Cartilage," he said as he read the big red title on the front. 

"It's not a comic book, either," Jason quickly added. 

"I didn't say this was it," Dick replied.  Mentally, he reminded himself to cross off all graphic novels, too.  Not that red herrings were beneath Jason either, he thought as he continued to thumb through the volume.   

This time Dick didn't even see the cashier as she peeked around the corner one last time, painfully anxious to finish cleaning the store.  She retreated all the same, thrown for a loop by the reversal of roles: Dick on the floor absorbed in a single book and Jason catching her gaze and giving a nod. 

Jason kicked Dick's foot.  "Time's up." 

"The store closes in fifteen minutes," Dick said. 

"Less than fifteen." Jason couldn't help but smirk.  "Need help, _Dickie_?" 

"Nope," Dick said, closing the graphic novel.  He turned around and found where he had pulled the volume from; but much to Jason's surprise, he didn't put the book back so much as take out the next three.  "It's actually pretty funny," Dick explained.  "I think Damian will like them." 

"You're giving those to Damian?" 

"Yeah," Dick said.  "After I'm done with them, of course."  He popped up from the floor and quickly brushed any carpet fuzz off of his backside.  "Let's go." 

"So you give up?" 

Dick's smile widened.  "Of course not.  I'll have the answer for you in a couple of days."  He pointed to the book in Jason's hands.  "'Nobody' said I had to find it before closing time." 

Jason stopped short, shooting him a look.  "How long have you been sitting on that pun?" 

"For over an hour and a half," he answered, heading to the cashier's counter.  It wasn't far, and he placed the comic books all face down in a pile to make it easier for her to scan the barcodes.  "Polyphemus is around the middle of the story, right?" 

"Something like that."  Jason placed his book on the counter as well and jerked his thumb toward Dick.  "He's getting this too." 

The cashier paused with her hand outstretched, hovering over it as she waited for a signal.  "Yeah, that too," Dick told her, without any hint of exasperation. 

Jason didn't even wait for him to finish paying before picking the book up and waving goodbye.  He was half out the door and down the front steps when he called, "Thanks for losing, I misplaced my original copy six years ago." 

"Jason, Ja- hey wait," Dick said, shoveling money out of his wallet, hoping that the wad he left was enough and that the cashier would take her time making change.  "I didn't lose yet!" 

"You didn't win, either." 

"Come back in three days, same time," Dick said, hanging on the door handle.  "Right here, I'll have the answer." 

Jason mulled it over for a second before turning to leave again.  "Sure."  Why not?  The bookstore was only three blocks away from his favorite safe house. 

***

 

When Jason opened the door, the cashier barely looked up from her inventory list, only glancing momentarily to make sure he was going to his customary section in the corner before calling the distributor to do a bulk return of unsold books. 

He half expected Dick to be sitting there on the floor, a book in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face, ready to proudly announce that he had figured it all out - after careful investigation and deduction he had determined Jason Todd's favorite book of all time.  And in turn, he was hoping that Dick would be wrong.  Completely and utterly and totally wrong.  Gloriously wrong. 

But no one was sitting on the floor back in the corner where the Travel section lived.  No one was in the store at all, save the cashier and himself.  It was hard to keep meetings in their line of work, so Jason idly starting poking through titles - a stream of enticements to explore the world - without giving it much thought.  He bounced his finger off of each one while reading their sales pitches.  Come see Ecuador!  Must do activities in Egypt!  Lose yourself in Ethiopia!   

Jason glared as he pulled his hand back from the last book and stated, "How about not?" 

Thirty minutes later and no Dick.  Three more hours and the cashier would be off of her shift, which was his cue to leave.  He didn't feel uncomfortable when the other employees were there; he had just done his homework, and out of all five that seemed to rotate through the store, she was the only one who never seemed to mind his reading habits much - especially when he put things back in their proper place, left early, and usually left with a purchase.  The library would have been cheaper, but something about the way that worked rubbed Jason the wrong way.  It didn't used to, since free books were a godsend when he was younger.  But in adulthood, for adult Jason - well, there was something about taking an item you never intended to keep that gnawed at him enough to keep him away.  Shame, too, he often thought. 

An hour later and still no one came in.  Dick could be sloppy at times, and especially sloppy with time, depending on what came up - but Jason began to realize that, "Right here, I'll have the answer," simply meant the answer was in the bookstore and Dick wasn't necessarily with it.  Turnabout was fair play, obnoxiously. 

Jason quickly looked around him.  Dick would have narrowed his options down to literature; anyone who remotely knew anything about Jason could have probably guessed his favorite book wasn't going to be found in the Biography section, after all.  And most likely Dick would have stuck to titles he was familiar with, novels that he would have had to read over the course of school.  Not necessarily a correct assumption, Jason noted, but a logical one. 

He walked over to the Classics section and headed for the D's.  Even if Dick had parsed out the real answer, he wouldn't have been able to resist considering the suggestion of _The Man in the Iron Mask_.  "Har de har har, Grayson," Jason said, as he crouched down to pick out the book.  The telltale sign was there - someone had arranged the shelf so that all the books were flush, save the one he was interested in just slightly poking out.  Most people would have assumed the booksellers did that to make the products look uniform, but he knew better - the employees of the store didn't have the time to be that neurotic. 

Something poked out at the top, a white sliver of index card in the dead center of the book.  Jason opened it and out fell a note that had nothing but the word "it" written in black permanent marker. 

"It?" he mumbled, picking it up and turning it over.  "I must have broken his mind."  And, more importantly Jason noted, wrong answer.  Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Satisfied, Jason put the book back where it belonged; smug, he stood up, impatient to inform Dick that not only was he painfully predictable, but that jokes were a poor substitute for detective work.  Distracted, he almost missed the top shelf, where Dostoyevsky's _Crime and Punishment_ was similarly peeking out from an unusually straight line of book spines. 

"Son of a-" 

Another index card in the middle: "favorite".

Not only had Jason's challenge broken Dick's brain, clearly, it had also made him stark raving mad.  Or, at least that was the joke Jason told himself before he quickly realized that Dante's _Inferno_ had also been curiously positioned and was harboring an "I". 

There was a "question" in Shakespeare's _Hamlet_.  "Too cliche," Jason commented. 

A "there" in Melville's _Moby Dick_.  "Not on your life," he added. 

A "here" in Shelley's _Frankenstein_.  "Real funny," he muttered. 

A "know" in Lee's _To Kill A Mockingbird_.  "Should have checked this first," he mused. 

And a "your" in Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_.   

He even stumbled across a clue heading back to his corner, catching Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_ and its hidden message of "trick".  "Touché," Jason said, grabbing the last card.

He plopped down on the floor and spread the 22 cards in front of him, placing the one with "It" to his far left and the one with "now." to his far right.   _It. Favorite. I. Question. There. Here. Know. Your. Trick. Now._  Arranging all of them in the correct order didn't take long, spelling out in Dick's handwriting: "It is a trick question your favorite book is not here but I know where it is and I am there now." 

"Dammit, he figured it out," Jason sighed, as he read the final message, scrambling to get up and grab all of the cards off of the floor.  He rushed toward the front - Dick would have been watching and waiting for him to walk into the bookstore and Jason wouldn't have thought to even check when he left the safe house because who needs to check for a tail when meeting up to waste time at an old bookstore? 

"Sir?" 

Jason stopped suddenly, his quick calculation of Dick's head start - at least 90 minutes - interrupted by the frantic waving of the cashier.  "You forgot to pay," she said, causing him to quickly check his pockets for a book he didn't remember accidentally stealing. 

"The book your friend put on hold for you?" she offered, pulling something from behind her counter and scanning it.  "He said yesterday that you wanted to buy it?"  She handed it to him for confirmation before hitting the total button. 

 _The Aeneid_.  Of course. 

Jason sighed.  "Yeah, thanks for reminding me," he told her, pulling out his wallet. 

By the time he slid into the door of his safe house apartment, Dick was already stretched out on his bed, on volume three of the comic book series he bought.  "Breaking and entering, burglary, stalking, attempted robbery," Jason lobbed at him, somewhat relieved that the bed still looked at least partially made up and neat. 

"Breaking and entering falls under burglary," Dick responded, shutting the book and sitting up.  "And you forgot trespassing." 

"I found your notes," Jason said, glowering at him.  "And I'm keeping _The Aeneid_." 

"I'll just borrow it later, then.  So," Dick said, swinging his socked feet to the side to sit on the edge of the bed, "I asked Alfred if he ever remembered you dragging around a certain book, or asking for one, or checking the same one out of the library constantly - if Bruce had ever given you one for your birthday that you couldn't seem to let go of." 

Since there were no rules, asking Alfred wasn't strictly considered cheating - but in hindsight, Jason realized every bout probably needed a No Alfred rule.   

"And," Dick continued, "he said there was something he remembered - Bruce doing something for the Gotham Public Library? So I searched through their donation records and then…." 

"And then?" 

"And then," Dick said, as he reached over to the side of the bed where he had placed a messenger bag on the floor.  He put the comic book back in and pulled out a small present - the size of a book - neatly wrapped in brown paper with a single wide ribbon across.  "Then I decided I didn't really care about winning.  Here." 

Jason hesitated to take it from him, for the first time in three days feeling self-conscious about the entire ordeal.   _What's your favorite book?_ was a pretty innocent question, one that got wrapped up in the escalation of turning it into a point of dominance.  He had forgotten how vulnerable the supposed innocent answer really made him feel.   

Underneath the brown paper, the book quickly revealed itself to be a familiar one.  " _The Odyssey_...yeah, well, thanks," he said dryly, looking at the cover.  "I'm pretty sure I already have this one." 

"Yeah," Dick laughed, "I know.  Check the inside cover." 

Jason gently opened the book, taking care not to bend the pages or crack the spine.  The inside cover had an official plate attached.  "Donated to Gotham Public Library," he read aloud, "by Richard John Grayson."  He paused for a moment to let it sink in - breaking the silence when he couldn't help but add, "...in memory of Jason." 

"That's not what it says."  Dick's eyes widened at the silent response.  "Right?  In memory?  I didn't tell them to put 'in memory-'" 

Jason titled the book to show off the inscription inside as he sat down on the end of the bed; the bookplate clearly stated in "honor" - a small piece of permanent literature forever in his name. 

"Funny," Dick commented.  

"I'm just pointing out that they got it wrong," Jason replied.  He held it in his hands and cradled his hands in his lap, looking over its corners and edges, the brown hard cover that held the story together and promised pages and pages of adventure and mythology.  Revenge.  Homecoming.  Loyalty.  Things he felt reasonably capable of representing with his embossed name; things he felt reasonably comfortable introducing to some kid, even if he had long abandoned his own use of the library.  If he thought about it, it was probably the nicest gift he had gotten in his adult life. 

"What _is_ your favorite book?" 

Jason fingers curled in and crept inside the book to feel the thickness of the dedication plate.  He shrugged slightly at the question.  "Something.  Some kid's book."  It wasn't that important and he was ready to let the whole thing go.   

When he looked over at the other end of the bed, Dick had his hands under his thighs, looking intently at Jason with genuine interest as he waited for the answer.  Jason coughed before closing _The Odyssey_ and setting it to the side.  "Uh, actually," he started, "it was a book my mother gave me…."


End file.
